


A Prized Possession

by Vixen13



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Cock Cages, Dancing, Edging, M/M, Masturbation, Musicians, Orgasm Denial, Pining i guess?, Sex Work, Training, Wet Dream, emissions but no full orgasms on page
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen13/pseuds/Vixen13
Summary: Yurio is the son of a serf blessed with the opportunity to be raised as one of the kingdom’s prized jewels. However, when he is ready, he must sell himself to the highest bidder to pay back his debt to the palace that raised him. Victor is a prince training a headstrong diamond on a whim, or so people say. Yuri is determined to catch Victor’s eye, for he refuses to be owned by anyone else. The question is, how much is he willing to sacrifice to get what he wants?
Relationships: Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	A Prized Possession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capra/gifts).



> Victor really likes saying Yuri’s name. Don’t at me.
> 
> This is a Secret Satan gift, emphasis on the Satan. This will not be a healthy relationship, and the power imbalance is strong. That said, kinky happy endings abound. Please be aware of your own limitations when consuming fiction, and read at your own discretion, thank you.

Yurio’s muscles burned. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and pooled at the base of his spine. He could barely concentrate through the ache of his feet and the screaming of his limbs. It didn’t matter. Ingrained habit pulled him through the next step and brought him into a spin. From the tips of his hair, droplets of sweat sprayed around him, catching the light from the windows.

Settling into the final pose, he locked his muscles to keep them from trembling. His toes dug into the plush carpet in an attempt to keep him steady. His chin tilted into the sun so that it would enhance his pale skin and shine off the hair that settled around his face in damp strands. There was no helping his labored breathing. He’d never found it elegant, but so long as everything else was perfect and he could follow all demands, there had been no complaints.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the prince, relaxed but studious. Victor’s smile, as usual, gave nothing away.

“Flawless,” Victor said, though there lacked any true passion in the word. He waved his hand, signalling that Yuri could break the pose. It took everything Yuri had not to immediately collapse to the floor. Instead, he returned to an easy but formal stance.

“I told you I could make it through all twenty dances at once.”

Victor laughed, bright and carefree. “I never suspected that you couldn’t.”

The room was overly warm, causing Yuri’s cheeks to flame. He’d long ago stopped worrying about that. Victor had said most owners liked the idea of their pets blushing with desire or praise. He’d trained Yuri in how to play that part, though they rarely indulged in such things these days.

But then, Victor didn’t own Yuri.

At the age of eight, Yuri’s beauty and talents had been recognized. He was pulled away from his life as a serf and trained at the palace. He’d been given an education far beyond what his birth would have normally dictated. He was expected to pay that back, of course. The Trained Children were required to use the connections that living at the palace provided to compensate for the expense of raising them.

Many opted for an apprenticeship with a noble willing to pay said debt, but the fastest way was to sell one’s purity to the highest bidder. These were known as the Jewels of the Palace. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded to become a Jewel. There were expectations and requirements. The body had to be formed into a living piece of art that caught and held all eyes that gazed upon it.

At the age of fifteen, Yuri had decided that if he could be molded into a prince’s perfect image, then he could break the record for the highest bid. If he did that, he’d be famous enough to become a Royal Jewel, one that worked independently and lived in the palace itself, charging exorbitant prices to nobles that wanted him for a night or three. If he played it right, he could buy his freedom within a few months. Headstrong and lacking any appropriate amount of fear for those in power, Yuri had approached all three princes with his desire for a personal trainer.

Miraculously, Victor had agreed to a petulant young Yuri’s demand, though Yuri hadn’t appreciated the extent his body would be pushed after that agreement.

“You’ve mastered every move down to the tiniest of details,” Victor said as he paced around Yuri in that way he did when thinking. Yuri didn’t bother to track the movement. Instead, he focused on catching his breath and let his eyes roam over the lavishness of the room.

His bunk in the Children’s Ward had felt like a luxury when he’d first arrived. Carved wood, soft mattress, and unstained sheets had only been the first of the many marvels in the palace. The food, books, and high ceilings had awed him next. Seeing the royal ballroom for the first time had blown away his entire understanding of how the world worked. It felt like living in a dream he was bound to wake from at any moment.

Those memories paled in comparison to Victor’s rooms. The suite was opulent beyond Yuri’s previous comprehension. Everything was ornately carved, inlaid with gold or silver, and draped in silk. The carpets here were thick enough to sink into. The view from the arching windows was breathtaking. Yuri supposed it made sense for a prince to live in such a place, but after three years, Victor no longer felt like the untouchable royal that fit the image these rooms portrayed.

Yuri propped his hands on his hips, his chest still heaving as he caught his breath. He glared as Victor came back into view. “Hah? If I’m perfect, why do you have that face?”

Victor’s lips were tilted at the corners in the barest of smiles, one long finger tapping the center of his lips. Yuri hated that fucking face because it was always followed by — “Something’s missing.” There it was!

“What could possibly be missing?” Yuri snapped.

Victor tilted his head, eyes squinting in that falsely elated expression he showed right before saying something nonsensical. “Sensuality.”

Yuri tossed his hands in the air. “You told me to stop focusing on that years ago!”

“Of course I did. At the time, you were too preoccupied with forcing an emotion, so it made your moves sloppy. Now, everything is ingrained.”

That was for sure. Victor had proved that point time and again. He wasn't satisfied until Yuri’s body was so used to perfectly working through every routine danced or every piece of music played that it could be done in any state of mind. Yuri had been woken in the middle of the night, tested after hours of studying a new language, and proven himself to still be able to execute what was expected of him even when his vision was tunneled with pain. No matter the distraction, Yuri could complete every dance and song there was. He was top of his class thanks to that.

“You’re getting old, Yuri,” Victor sing-songed.

Yuri scoffed. “Speak for yourself.”

“I’m not the one selling myself for bids. Mistakes, embarrassment, innocence — those things are reserved for the young. You are no longer considered young.”

Yuri clicked his tongue in annoyance. “So what? I’m better than any other Child here.”

“The older you get, the more you must rely on selling what it is people want from you.”

Sex. Sex was what people wanted when they bid on him. He had classes in that, too, though it was in the form of text and pictures. If any of the Children lost their purity prior to being bid on, they were either placed immediately into the army or forced to work in the public brothels or mines to settle their debt. After all, there were expectations when it came to being a Trained Child.

“Then what do you want me to do?” Yuri glowered at his headache of a trainer. Every lesson Victor assigned had always worked, but that didn’t make it any less annoying to deal with.

Victor hummed in thought before offering a bright smile. “Strip.”

Yuri’s eyes went wide. In all the time they’d trained together, Victor had shown no sexual interest. It had been frustrating. At first, Yuri saw the potential of Victor purchasing him as a personal Jewel. It would add to his prestige and ultimately make things easier since they already knew one another. As time passed, practicality had given way to a desire to prove himself. With every rare moment of genuine praise, Yuri’s desire to stay with Victor had grown, so much so that Yuri was now constantly lying to himself about how much he wanted to stay by the stupid prince’s side.

“Haaah?” Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“You need something to help you tap into your inner sexuality,” Victor said so confidently it almost overcame how insane the request was. “You’re all hard edges and no passion right now. You need something to help soften you.”

“That’s stupid. It’s not going to make a difference!”

“Oh?” Victor’s smile set on his face in a way that meant he was tired of being argued with. “You doubt my methods now?”

“Not to mention,” Yuri continued with gritted teeth, “my price depends on my _purity_ , in case you’ve miraculously forgotten.”

Victor laughed as he made his way over to a chair. He sank into the cushions, utterly at ease. “I’m not going to touch you. This is about _you._ Only you can tap into that place inside of you. Succeed and you’ll be the most perfect Jewel the palace has ever created.”

The tiny sting of how flippantly Victor stated his intent not to touch Yuri was overwhelmed by the ever-present driving need to be the best. He wanted to set an impossible record, one that could never be beat. He wanted to be remembered as the most desired pet in the history of the palace. Yuri swallowed hard against the prickling intensity of his competitive nature.

“Fine.”

Victor’s knowing hum grated as Yuri yanked off his clothes. Of course he knew how to remove them in a sensual manner, but he didn’t bother. Victor had made it clear he wasn’t looking at Yuri in such a way, so there was no need for it. Tossing everything aside, Yuri shook out his limbs and forced his mind to focus on the task at hand rather than the ice blue eyes gazing at his bare form.

“What do you want me to dance?”

“Midnight Breeze.”

That wasn’t a surprise. It was the most fluid of all the dances, so it was a good choice to show off for this particular reason. Yuri took up position, sucked down a deep breath, and gently turned into the first move, arms stretched wide. He kept his eyes half-lidded, his head tilting to follow the movements. His calves felt nearly on fire as he kept to his toes, pushing his body to keep going long after exhaustion had the right to settle in.

When he ended the dance, his extended fingers trembled with fatigue. Victor waved for Yuri to break the finished pose and nodded to the pitcher of water on a side table. Yuri padded over and gulped some down between his labored breathing. Victor’s eyes were like pinpricks where they settled on his back, still watching.

“Hmm…” Victor tapped his lips again. “It’s still not enough.”

Yuri slammed his cup down and turned with a shout of frustration. “How?”

“When was the last time you touched yourself?”

Victor said such things in painfully casual ways, forever slapping Yuri across the face with how unwanted he was. Perhaps he really _didn’t_ have any sexuality to him. Gritting his teeth — a common occurrence around Victor — he replied, “Last night.”

“Ahhh, that might be the problem.” Victor stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“There’s no problem! We’re allowed to rub one out.” Penetration was not allowed, neither was assistance from others, but asking a bunch of teenage boys not to touch themselves at all would have been asking for the impossible.

“Do it now,” Victor ordered, his voice chipper in a way that didn’t suit the demand.

“What?” Yuri was absolutely frozen with shock. This was something he’d wanted to do for so long, anything and everything to catch Victor’s attention. But why now? Why in this situation after Victor was yet again confirming that this was all for Yuri’s future bids? And why was his body betraying him by rushing so much blood downwards already?

“Yu-ri,” Victor sang. “Follow my orders.”

Moments like these, when Victor’s eyes settled with the weight of a thousand bricks, reminded Yuri that he was in the presence of royalty. Though Victor often acted flippant and carefree, he wasn’t. He took his position in life seriously, and the overwhelming power of his command during the rare times he wielded it would make a lesser man quake.

As if attached to a string, Yuri’s hand moved to his hardening cock. Neither unsurety or shame could stop him now. He kept his grip light while using long strokes to coax himself into full hardness. His lips felt suddenly dry, so he ran his tongue against them. He realized belatedly that his eyes were fixed to the floor. He forced them up.

Victor stared as he usually did — attentive and calculating, as if he were going to provide feedback on how to better jerk oneself off. Yuri looked away, closing his eyes and imagining Victor hovering over him, close and warm, whispering instructions as Yuri’s body temperature rose.

_“Speed up, just a little. Run your thumb over the head. Twist to the right on the way down.”_

Yuri bit his lip to hold back a moan. Daydreams were the closest he’d get to ever hearing Victor say it, but at least he’d been around the man for so long that his imagination was perfect. He couldn’t say how long he stroked himself, lost in his own world, pretending that the dispassionate Victor in the room was somehow different. All he cared about was that it was working. He was getting close, his breath coming fast, his knees growing weak, his balls pulling up.

“Stop.”

Victor’s voice in that demanding tone, so different from the coaxing tone of Yuri’s imagination, physically jolted Yuri back to reality. His hand stopped of its own accord, his eyes opening. Likely, he looked somewhere between angry and desperate. A strand of hair cut across his vision, but he could still perfectly see how Victor was struggling to hold back a smirk at Yuri’s expression. It was the most interested Yuri had ever seen the prince. His cock twitched.

“Now, try it again,” Victor instructed.

“Wha?” Yuri was surprised at how slurred his speech was. His mind was sluggish with desire, but he was usually better than this. He could dance through hell, so why was a little incomplete satisfaction messing with him so much?

“I want you to dance Midnight Breeze.” Victor snapped his fingers. “Now.”

Yuri was in position before he’d even thought about it. He felt a drop of precum bead at the head of his cock. That was going to be distracting. Well, it didn’t matter. His body knew what to do. In a fog, he stepped into the first move, his whole body swaying like a reed in the wind as he went along. He honestly couldn’t tell if he was in tempo or not. Was that good or bad? Did this whole experiment do nothing but embarrass himself in front of what he most desired rather than offering any improvements?

It felt both forever and no time at all when he finished. He was suffering powerful tremors this time from a mix of fatigue and emotions. He was still hard from the exertion and the arousal pooled in his gut. His eyes slid up to meet Victor’s. The blue depths gusted over his sweaty skin like a winter gale.

Victor tapped his long, pale finger against his perfectly sculpted lips. “Again, but this time, hold onto that edge for as long as you can. Don’t stop until you feel the slightest touch will tip you over. You’re not allowed to climax.”

Yuri blinked, but the world remained fuzzy on the edges. The words sank into his mind slowly, like drifting bits of fallen leaves into a lake. His lips parted. “You…want me to.”

“Keep up, Yu-ri.”

He looked down at his aching dick and took it in hand. For some reason, it felt more intense this time. Each stroke echoed up his spine and crackled deep within his gut. His hand sped up and slowed down, bringing him closer and closer but never close enough. He wanted to question why he was even doing this, but the thought wouldn’t stay in his mind long enough to grasp it. He was exhausted, desperate with the need to prove he would follow Victor’s every command, and completely lost to arousal.

All the while, Victor remained silent, watching like a predator, gaze freezing Yuri’s flesh wherever it landed. His eyes searched out every flaw, assessed every hitch of breath and jerk of movement. It was like he was analyzing something, determining how best to use or exploit it in the future for maximum results. Yuri was nothing but a problem to be solved.

That should have been annoying, to be looked upon less as a person and more as an object. It wasn’t. Yuri knew deep down inside that he would alter himself to whatever Victor wanted so long as they could stay within each other’s orbit. It was why Yuri had delayed his bidding for so long. Did Victor know that? Did he suspect? Was he trying to break Yuri in order to force the matter?

Well, Yuri refused to break.

When tears welled up in Yuri’s eyes and his balls were tight to his skin and his whole body shook with the effort to hold back, he finally let go. He was heaving in air harder than he had before, his muscles learning a new level of weakness that fatigue held no candle to. He stumbled but managed to brace his feet far enough apart to not fall. His hair hung around his face. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose; milky liquid dripped from the tip of his cock.

“Hopefully, this will help,” Victor said as if it was any other task he’d assigned to mold Yuri into the top student. “Now, try the dance again.”

The world felt unreal. As his arms moved, the air brushed his skin like piles of cotton. His legs felt numb. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes fully open or his mouth fully shut. Desire pressed at the back of his throat like a physical presence. All that ran through his mind was how much he wanted to feel the weight of Victor’s flesh on his tongue. He would have sucked on his own fingers and begged for relief, but his body acted on its own.

He took position and began to dance. More than once the world tilted around him, or his mind burst with sparkling light when his cock bounced against his thigh. He couldn't tell if tears or sweat streaked down his cheeks. He could barely tell where he was at in the room. Truly, he should have stumbled and fell, either over his own feet or by virtue of colliding with the various pieces of furniture in the room. He didn’t. His body was perfectly trained to remember every dance he’d been trained to do.

And his very soul yearned to obey Victor in all things.

When at last he came to an end, he was surprised that he didn’t immediately collapse. He held position, eyes half-lidded, the room lost behind the gauzy haze that had overtaken him. He noticed, however, the chilling blue that filled his vision. Victor was so close…

“Very good, Yuri,” Victor praised in a warm, silken voice that nearly had Yuri cumming untouched. He was ashamed to say he whimpered at the sound. “We can definitely use this from here on out.” Stepping back, Victor’s hand blurred as he waved at a large stool. “Kneel.”

Once more, Yuri’s body moved before his mind caught up. He swayed on his way over, but his kneel was solid — toes together, knees apart, arms folded behind his back, chin up. He let the world settle around him, focusing only on his breathing. Taking hold of his training, he allowed his mind to drift away, void of any thought. Eventually, his body would settle back to normal.

A full-body shiver brought him back. It was clear he’d been in position for a long time. His skin was becoming chilled from cooled sweat, his breath even, his cock softened. Despite that, a warm core of unfulfilled pleasure burrowed deep in his gut. He idly wondered how intense his orgasm would be once he finally returned to his bunk.

Something metal was moved into his line of vision. “Do you recognize this?” Victor asked. He was just over Yuri’s shoulder, his body so close that Yuri could feel the residual warmth.

“A torture device?” Yuri asked, drawing a blank. It pulled a delighted laugh from Victor. Yuri didn’t have time to appreciate the sound before his sluggish brain provided the answer. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Why do you have that?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Victor walked around in front of Yuri, his neutral, friendly smile in place to hide any inner thoughts. “A trainer should be prepared for any needs the student may have.”

Carefully, so as not to touch a single bit of Yuri’s skin, Victor placed the cage on the stool directly between Yuri’s legs, as if to taunt the limp dick dangling above it. Yuri swallowed hard. His voice came out rougher than expected. “How long do you want me to wear that?”

Victor tilted his head with a warning hum. “Does it matter?”

They both knew the answer to that. Yuri picked up the device. There was a long pause. Victor said nothing, and Yuri’s chest felt trapped in a vice. With a sense of both deep foreboding and elated excitement, Yuri set about putting it on. He had never done so, but he’d studied it. They all had. Who knew what their owners would request of them. After only a bit of minimal struggling, the thing latched into place — lock and all.

He stared at it. Silver bands wrapped around his soft and fragile flesh, all of it resting on the pillow of his testicles that were kept away from his body by a thick ring. He could feel Victor hovering over his head, as if inspecting to make sure Yuri had done everything properly. The damn thing fit like a glove. Had it been made for him? The thought made something flutter in his stomach.

He imagined Victor reaching out to brush those long fingers along Yuri’s cheek. _“You belong to me now,”_ he would say in a darkly amused voice. Yuri shivered again. In the cage, his cock swelled a bit, pressing into the edges of the banded metal sides. It almost felt good, that gentle squeeze, but if he continued to let his mind run away from him, it would grow painful in no time at all.

“Where’s the key?” Yuri blurted. He knew better than to ask, but rational thought was still a step behind instinct after everything that had happened.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Victor replied, surprisingly patient as always with Yuri’s break in decorum. “Tomorrow, we’ll work on this again. I think this has great potential for you.”

He wanted to growl that he hated it, that this whole thing was unnecessary and stupid. He couldn’t. Not because he’d be denying the commands of his trainer or of the prince. No, it was because what rested on his skin was something given to him by Victor. It was a physical weight, a reminder that Victor owned a significant piece of Yuri. That knowledge bubbled through Yuri’s very core, tingling across his limbs and popping along his fingertips.

Yuri looked up and for one breathtaking moment, their eyes met with more heat than had ever existed before. Then, Victor blinked and stood up straight as if everything were back to normal.

“Don’t forget to stretch and finish jogging for stamina,” Victor said. “Go to sleep early tonight. You need the rest.”

“I would have without you saying so.” Yuri tried for his own usual tone, but it came out breathy. He didn’t know how to fix that. Instead of dwelling on it, he moved from the stool to stand on shaky legs and went to collect his clothes.

To be honest, he’d be surprised if he managed any sleep at all tonight.

**~*~**

The cage didn’t come off. Victor never mentioned it, and Yuri never asked. The pressure building up in his balls couldn’t be denied. He looked up ways to relieve that and discovered milking, though it was useless to him. That still required a form of penetration, however small. The only other thing he learned was that his body would take care of itself eventually.

He’d taken to stuffing folded up rags into his underwear before sleeping. It was easier to handle the mess that way. He never remembered the orgasms while he slept, and they offered no relief. Rather, he simply dribbled out some of what filled him in thick bursts through the hole at the top of the cage. Usually, though not always, these times were accompanied by dreams.

He dreamt of kneeling between Victor’s feet during royal addresses, worshiping the cock that filled his throat with radiating warmth. Other times, the dreams were more active, with him naked in the garden, bent over and shown off to the courtiers while Victor fucked Yuri to speechlessness. Often, it was Victor’s usual dictating voice, telling Yuri to do the filthiest of things in the prince’s luxurious bed. Each and every one caused Yuri’s desires to grow beyond what he’d previously allowed himself. He wanted to be owned by Victor, more than anything.

During the day, Yuri trained.

His mind was always fuzzy on the edges now, desire taking over every bit of him. He thought of little else, his mind flying off into daydreams easily, which helped his condition not at all. His poor cock ached from where it pressed into the bars of the cage, desperate for relief. Occasionally, his frustration would turn to anger. He snapped at his fellow students and stormed away from patient royal tutors. Inevitably, he would find his way back to Victor’s rooms.

One look was all Victor needed. He’d pull the key from his shirt and hand it over. Yuri would take it and unlock the cage. No words were spoken between them. Yuri knew what was expected of him. He would touch himself, force his arousal to painful heights over and over again until he was near driven mad with it. Then, he’d stop. He’d let the desire sink into his very being until his mind was useless and his skin burning.

After that, the cage returned, and Yuri would take his lesson. This went on for months.

On this particular day, he was playing the harp. Dancing was showing progress, according to Victor. However, now Yuri’s _music_ needed something extra. Yuri felt the kindling of anger deep in his chest, though it was smothered by the smoky desire that constantly roiled through him now. So, he sat naked on the cushioned leather stool and played the requested song mostly from muscle memory.

Each pluck of the string vibrated through the air and straight to Yuri’s core. It was as if every note was also playing within him, causing his arousal to ebb and flow with the sound of the melody. He knew this was due to the training. After months of denied release before his dances, he no longer needed to touch himself to find his body reacting. Even practicing by himself without Victor’s heavy eyes to watch, Yuri’s cock would be throbbing against its metal cage by the end.

Now, he was being trained to feel the same from music. It was happening easier this time, his body attuned to what Victor wanted as the result. Yuri’s fingers plucked hard on the lower notes, and it caused him to shiver. His mind was slipping away, tongue heavy in his mouth, lips parted and unable to seal closed once more. The blood in his cock throbbed a counterbeat in time to the harp’s melody.

When Yuri finally finished, his fingers lifting away from the strings, his entire being was on edge. He bent forward to rest his forehead on the thick wood of the harp, breathing hard. His cock continued to twitch. He could feel something coming out of it, but that only provided a slight relief in the pressure of his now heavy balls. He whined but bit back the sound before he embarrassed himself more.

Victor’s presence fell over him. “You’ve made a mess, Yuri.”

He barely managed to lift his head enough to see the prince’s expression. Instead of the single, long finger, Victor had three splayed out and pressed to his lips. They pressed down, as if physically suppressing the smile trying to grow there. His usually winter eyes now burned like blue flame, searing Yuri’s body wherever they landed. Yuri squeezed his eyes shut and bit back another embarrassing noise as more viscous liquid spilled from the confines of his cage.

He wants me.

“Clean it up,” Victor said, his voice a calm contrast to his reaction.

Yuri wobbled to his feet, but when he looked around for a rag. Victor clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Their eyes met, causing the tension between them to swell. Victor signaled for Yuri to kneel, so Yuri’s body obeyed. He took up position, his sight now filled with the milky fluid pooled atop the stool, a droplet of it already escaping down one side.

“Catch that before it causes any more of a mess on the carpet,” Victor warned in the pleasant voice he usually used when he was being charming with the servants. Except, Yuri could hear the touch of something else in it. He was well acquainted enough with the emotion now to catch even the slightest hint — desire.

Eyes half-lidded and mouth falling open easy, Yuri leaned forward and licked the trail from the soft cushion. It tasted bitter, salty, and unsurprisingly held a hint of leather. He didn’t mind it. Rather, he saw it as a strange form of training. If he could become used to the taste, then he’d better be able to cherish the gifts Victor might give. So, Yuri flattened his tongue and licked his mess slowly and methodically until there was nothing left, putting on the show he desperately hoped Victor wanted.

Once finished, Yuri looked up at Victor’s dominating presence. The flame in those eyes still burned despite what Victor’s stillness might have otherwise portrayed. And only because Yuri was always so attentive to every detail did he notice how Victor’s breathing was a touch faster than normal. Yuri’s fingers dug into his own elbows to keep himself from reaching out to touch the thick fabric shrouding what would have been proof of Victor’s interest.

_Tell me you want me,_ Yuri secretly begged. Aloud, he said, “Is that to your satisfaction?”

Pale, elegant fingers reached out to hover over Yuri’s temple. They moved through the air, close enough to feel the slightest brush over the fine flyaway hairs that haloed Yuri’s head. Closing his eyes, Yuri could almost imagine what it would feel like for Victor’s fingers to brush through the strands, nails scratching the scalp, before gripping a handful of pale blonde hair with a light tug. Yuri’s breath shuddered on the way out as his eyes fluttered open once more.

Victor would never touch. He was a prince who must uphold the rules of the Trained Children. Yuri was not a Jewel.

Yet.

“Very good,” Victor praised, his voice a hint deeper — huskier — than his usual bright tone. “You never know what an owner may ask of you. It is best to always be prepared.”

“I can handle anything,” Yuri replied with utter confidence. If it was for Victor, he could do it all.

A knowing smile lifted one corner of Victor’s lips even higher. In a soft voice, he warned, “Wishes must be treated with care, for every wish comes with a consequence.”

Yuri gritted his teeth, the banked coals of his anger flaring and cutting through the fog. He narrowed his eyes at the stubborn prince above him. “I can weather anything. I’m stronger than anyone here, including you.”

Victor laughed, delighted. “Hold onto that, Yuri. I find it to be your best quality.”

**~*~**

The closer Yuri came to his nineteenth year, the more Yakov ranted about Yuri growing too old. Already, he was well past when most Trained Children submitted themselves for bidding. There had only been one in history that waited until the age of twenty, and that had been due to a long bout of sickness. Yuri was perfectly healthy and had no excuse.

“Whatever you’re waiting for, it’s in vain,” Yakov scolded. “You need to think of your future.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Yuri snapped, storming away.

“Your stubbornness is why I had to go above your head!” Yakov’s voice echoed down the hall. The heads of other Children turned to stare, but Yuri ignored them. Everyone else was afraid of their eldest teacher, but Yuri had never been intimidated by anyone. It meant most of his juniors were afraid of Yuri as well, which suited him just fine. They parted like water as he let his anger drive him to familiar doors.

“Did you talk to Yakov?” Yuri demanded as he shoved Victor’s door open. His voice carried easily across the inner rooms.

Victor’s cheerful face leaned back around the edge of his study’s doorframe. “Yuri, welcome! Did you terrify my maid again?”

“Answer my question!” Yuri stomped across the plush carpet and into the cozy study. He slammed his palms onto the glossy wood of the desk. “Why are you talking to Yakov instead of me?”

“I suppose I did forget to tell you about that…”

“Don’t give me that shit!”

“Ah, but Yuri…” Victor tapped one long against his lips as he hummed in thought, sitting back in his stuffed leather chair. “Your teachers are worried about you. I can’t disagree.”

“There’s nothing to worry about!”

“That’s the point.” Victor tilted his head with a rare chastising look. “You’re perfect now. I have nothing left to teach you.”

Yuri’s fingers dug into the top of the desk as he sucked in a sharp breath. This was why Victor was supposed to talk to Yuri first. Victor was supposed to ask for the Jewel he’d so diligently trained. He was supposed to ask Yuri if that was what they both wanted rather than getting swept away in the formality the palace teachers demanded.

_You knew from the beginning that was all a dream,_ Yuri scolded himself. Victor was a prince. It was his job to uphold palace traditions and enforce them appropriately. It was why he was always so careful not to touch or show any signs of favoritism beyond what any other personal trainer might. It was why he’d never allowed himself to grow attached to Yuri.

“I have some ideas for your presentation day.” Victor pulled over a sheet of parchment scribbled with notes. “We can discuss it.”

Yuri bared his teeth and pushed away from the desk with force. He couldn’t stay here and discuss this with Victor. Acid was already burning at the back of his throat. He needed time to be by himself and to let this stupid hope of his go. Once upon a time, he’d had a clear path for his future that didn’t involve anyone but himself and the massive amount of money he’d intended to earn his first year. His goal was to be the most sought after Jewel in the kingdom, wasn’t it? He would dig that plan back up from the dusty depths it had sunk to and focus on it.

“Do what you want,” Yuri snapped. “Whatever you decide will be _perfect_ , right?”

“Naturally,” Victor replied with a careless wave of his hand. “I’ll have a plan sent to you for confirmation. You can be presented in a few weeks if we play this right.”

“Fine.” Yuri turned to leave, but Victor’s strict voice caught him.

“You’re forgetting something.”

Scowl firmly in place, Yuri turned to see Victor’s pale fingers holding a thin, silver chain that contained a tiny key. Yuri stopped breathing. _Anything but this._ If he took off the cage, it would truly be the end of things. The life-changing piece of Yuri that Victor had claimed would be free. Without the cage, no part of Yuri would be owned in any way by the one person he was willing to sell his soul to.

“You don’t need that anymore,” Victor said, his voice calm but brooking no argument. Their eyes met, but he did not relent to Yuri’s desperate anger.

“Did I ever need it?” Yuri challenged. Victor didn’t answer.

Yuri snatched the key away and set about removing the warm metal. His cock filled immediately, trained to expect touch once it was finally freed. Well, it was about to be sorely disappointed. Yuri had no desire to touch himself. It would feel like defeat. So long as he abstained, he could pretend that he was claimed, wanted, desired by the person he craved the most.

The cage dropped with a heavy thud between them on the table, followed by the light clink of the chain and key. Yuri adjusted his clothes and pretended that he didn’t feel weightless in the aftermath. Victor remained silent, but his eyes were heavy. He watched with the same intensity he always did when searching for flaws in Yuri’s performances.

“I’ll make everyone in this kingdom desire me,” Yuri promised, his voice hard to hide his inner turmoil.

“I know,” Victor replied with a knowing smile and serious eyes. “There’s no one else in the world like you, Yuri.”

Spinning on his heel, Yuri left.

**~*~**

Training alone was one of the hardest things Yuri had ever done. He hated the other Children and had no friends to speak of. He always preferred solitude. Or at least, he had. Now, every piece he played or dance step he practiced had his blood pounding, his cock dripping, and his mind slipping to thoughts of Victor’s tall, elegant build. He was lonely, and he hated to admit that all he wanted was the company of the one person denied to him.

He had no further interaction with Victor. Even the plan for Yuri’s presentation had been delivered by a maid. As ridiculous as the proposal was, Yuri didn’t argue it. He simply signed it and sent it back immediately. No Jewel had been presented on their bidding day with a full day’s worth of presentation. It was asking the impossible to stay elegant and alluring that entire time. The stamina one had to have was insane. So of course, Victor expected Yuri to follow through.

Yakov was annoyed. He’d had his own ideas of how best to present Yuri. He’d gone to argue with the prince himself, but it had done little good. All it really accomplished was a few of the new Children to piss themselves in fear of Yakov’s screaming rants. Yuri avoided his instructors as best he could. Whatever Victor demanded, Yuri would do. He needed no one else’s opinion on that.

It took a month for everything to be ready. The presentation day coincided with another event that brought dignitaries from the kingdom’s various allies. That guaranteed rich nobles willing to pay a lot for the opportunity to experience a Jewel of the Palace. It made sense why Yuri was set to be their entertainment throughout the day. In between performances, he would dine with these men and women of power, flirt and entice, flatter and enthrall. It wasn’t his strongest suit, but Victor’s plans had never once shied away from his flaws.

“I expect you’re able to keep up?” Victor would ask with a challenge hidden by an innocent smile.

“Watch me, old man,” Yuri would inevitably respond.

Even without them seeing one another, the words hung between them, heedless of distance. They knew one another, better than any others at the palace. It was why Yuri knew Victor would be there, ever watchful, and Victor knew that Yuri would defy expectations.

The morning of his presentation day found Yuri suffering through having his hair styled and cosmetics applied to his face. The younger Children were running to and from the room, peeking at him in awe as they whispered about the grand decorations laid out in the main hall. Of course Victor had chosen such a prestigious room. It was likely his way of showing off his skill as a personal trainer.

_Good fucking luck getting any regard for that,_ Yuri ranted in his head. _I’ll steal all their attention and keep it on me._

“Yuri!” Yakov snapped. “Did you eat? If you haven’t eaten, you’ll never make it through this damn schedule.”

“I know how to take care of my body,” Yuri grumbled in return, not bothering to look at Yavok’s permanently sour face.

“I can’t believe you agreed to this. What more will you get out of a full day that three hours can’t gain you?”

_Victor’s eyes,_ Yuri thought. This would be the last day that they spent so much time together with that icy blue gaze scrutinizing Yuri’s every move. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You better.” Yakov growled and shooed away the people attending to Yuri. “There’s no point continuing when he’s going to be dripping with sweat by noon.”

Yuri stared at himself in the ornate mirror before him. With the fine silk clothing, the sparkling jewelry, and the kohl lining his eyes, he was a half step away from his usual appearance — familiar and a stranger all at once. Was this ethereal, polished image what people wanted? Victor had appreciated Yuri at his worst, all scowling features and slumped body weak with exhaustion. In a way, despite the walls they placed between one another, Yuri and Victor showed their true, imperfect selves to one another.

Wouldn’t Victor miss that? Why couldn’t he have offered to buy Yuri and skipped this day altogether?

It was pointless to obsess over. “Let’s go,” Yuri said, standing and striding from the room with grace and purpose. The next stage of his life started now.

When he entered the Great Hall, all eyes turned to him. He kept that attention, not bothering to wait for his name or title to be announced. It wasn’t needed. Everyone knew who he was and what his purpose was for. He strode to the empty space at the center of the room. The musicians set to play for his dances scrambled to ready themselves when they realized that Yuri wasn’t going about things in the usual order. He took up position, and the room fell silent with anticipation.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Victor smirk.

Yuri began with the hardest dance. It was the least sensual but the most technically challenging. It helped to start with something that would display his skill, laying the groundwork for what he was capable of. The murmurs of his captive audience blended with the notes that filled the room. His muscles burned in a pleasant way, and he let himself sink into that familiar feeling. Nerves had no place inside him, only confidence in his ability to perform with exacting precision each and every time.

Arousal was not at the forefront of his mind when the day started. Despite his self-enforced denial, this morning had been distracting with all the preparations needed. However, his now trained response to his art asserted itself. Desire swelled in his core and trickled through his system. He wondered what kind of sight he made to others, walking out so cold and confident only to be steadily swept away in the arousal of his own movements.

His ending pose was first met with a collective intake of breath. Everyone could now clearly see his flushed cheeks, dazed eyes, and softened edges. His transformation must have been a sight to behold. In the next instant the room filled with stomping feet and canes woven through with pleased laughter and appreciative comments. Yuri slipped from his pose, eyes dragging along the onlookers until they met ice blue.

Victor, sporting a cat-with-cream smile, raised his glass to Yuri.

A dark-haired foreigner broke the circle of empty space around Yuri. He was confident and cocky, a toothy grin already spread across his face. He was perhaps only a slight bit shorter than Victor, but his presence made him feel far bigger in a way that grated. He offered Yuri a nod instead of a bow. “My name is Jean-Jacques, visiting future king.”

_Future king._ Yuri barely resisted rolling his eyes and mocking the man for not accepting that he was a prince. Did he think Yuri would simper over the title? What nonsense. Yuri had been in the presence of a prince for years during the most brutal and intimate moments of his life. _Prince_ Jean-Jacques was a joke compared to Victor.

Jean-Jacques offered his arm with a smirk. “Allow me to introduce you to those in power.”

Yuri placed his hand on the prince’s heavily draped arm only because formality and his own position in the palace required him to. Jean-Jacques puffed out his chest and proceeded to not only lead them around the room but lead the conversations as well. It was grating but not entirely unuseful. Yuri wasn’t one for conversation. His teachers had beat it into his head, but Victor had never focused on it. After all, nobody was bidding for a “conversation partner.”

There were nobles that Yuri did and didn’t know. He chatted with them all in the same tone and demure mannerisms he’d been taught. It felt painfully inauthentic, but then, he wasn’t supposed to be a person. He was supposed to be a Jewel. His gaze drifted time and again until they found silver hair and a charming smile. Victor was using this as an excuse to mingle and collect information. That was his job as well, Yuri knew, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. All attention should be focused on one thing and one thing only.

“Yu-ri.”

The familiar voice he’d been desperately missing startled him. He turned to see Victor’s friendly smile. Jean-Jacques took the opportunity to introduce them without prompting. Yuri didn’t react as he had with others while Victor laughed.

“Have you met before?” Jean-Jacques asked, his smile slightly strained over the knowledge that he was missing something.

“I trained this beautiful Jewel myself,” Victor easily replied. He turned to Yuri. “You look lovely today.”

Yuri bowed his head but found he had nothing to say in return. He didn’t know how to act formally around Victor. All he wanted to do was glare and fling impertinent responses. He couldn’t do that in this room full of important people, however. He felt constrained in a way he never had before, like this whole life he’d planned for, his dream of being the most famous Jewel of the Palace, would be painfully suffocating.

“A prince training a commoner?” Jean-Jacques scoffed.

Yuri gritted his teeth. He wasn’t a commoner. He was something more, something suspended in the hierarchy until he was presented. As a Jewel, he’d be one of the most important people in the kingdom. How dare this stupid, uninformed, little shit — 

“Victor devotes himself to any task that enhances the reputation of our kingdom,” said a new pompous voice. “And he is the picture of decorum, so watch what you say.” Lord Georgi Popovich turned his nose down at the foreign prince as if Jean-Jacques was unworthy of the title. Yuri silently agreed.

Jean-Jacques lifted his chin in affront. “I was not insinuating — ”

“Good,” Georgi interrupted. “For the only one touching a pure Jewel is you.”

The arm Yuri gratingly held onto was yanked away, much to his relief. Jean-Jacques was immediately replaced by some other important nobleman wanting to appraise Yuri from up close. Victor sipped wine to hide his amusement, though it sparkled in his eyes. It was clear he selfishly relished these little moments by the way he didn’t scold Georgi for acting out. Yuri wondered if anyone else realized how childish Victor truly was.

The moment between them didn’t last. Yuri was caught up in more neverending conversations. People touched him in “accidental” ways, doing their best to appraise how soft his skin was, how lean his muscles, how fine his bones without getting caught. Yuri had witnessed horses on sale being harassed less. He was overly relieved to escape the crowd and perform once his harp was set up.

Upon taking his seat, the room fell quiet once more, the band in the corner beginning the intro to Yuri’s solo. The relief he felt to be away from the unprecedented mass of bodies was short-lived. Each pluck of the string not only reverberated inside of him, ramping up his arousal, but it reminded him of things. The ache in his fingers brought back visceral memories of licking his own spend from the leather stool. How many times had that happened? More than once, he knew, but now it had amalgamated into a single visceral memory that overtook him.

He could taste it on his tongue.

He could feel Victor’s burning gaze.

He ached.

By the time the song was through, the last notes carrying into the vaulted ceilings above, Yuri was panting for breath as if he’d been dancing instead of sitting. His cheeks were stained pink, his whole body warm. The outline of his cock was clear beneath his spread legs. Everyone was watching him. He lifted his gaze to assess the room.

Lust pressed on him like a physical weight. They all wanted him, yearned for him, were ready to fight over him, and the day had only just begun. It caused a jolt up his spine that was equal parts excitement and thrill. He reveled in the attention but feared being ripped apart by their rabid greed. Men in power were not known for abstaining from what they wanted.

Only Victor was relaxed, a pleased smile on his face. Was he not affected at all? Even though everyone else wanted what he’d created?

_Fight them for me!_ Yuri wanted to scream. Instead, he stood and bowed, his skin pickling and chest seizing at the ensuing noise of stomping boots — like the false thunder of an oncoming stampede. Would he survive the ravenous people in this opulent warzone of marble, tapestries, and silk?

In a daze of arousal tinged with unreality, he was spun through to room in a dizzying blur of pompous people and cajoling words they didn’t expect him to respond to. With each routine and instrument in between, the greed in the room swelled alongside Yuri’s desperate need for release. What kind of release — from the hall or from his own body’s need — he couldn’t say.

The only point of sanity was Victor. Each song, each dance, each circuit of dignitaries held a memory so strong it was choking. Victor’s smell, his voice, the plush carpet under Yuri’s knees, the too-intimate acts they shared, the tips of Victor’s fingers teasing the tips of Yuri’s hair. So close. So close. But never there. Never enough. Never fully satisfying.

The lunch break was a new kind of suffering. Yuri was to stay at the table spread with delicacies and fill the plates of those who asked for it, showing off his grace and elegance in acts of service. They took and took from him, leaning close to catch his scent, dragging fingers along his as they took their place, spilling wine on him for the excuse to dab it away. They crowded him, stealing his air, making him sway as he contained the urge to shout at them.

“Yuri,” Victor’s voice sliced through the fog like a beam of winter sunlight, a tease of warmth that was never enough to eat away the chill. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” Yuri whispered, his eyes locking with Victor’s like a lifeline.

“Here.” Fruit was held to Yuri’s lips by long, pale fingers.

Eyelids fluttering, Yuri parted his lips. There was a hush around them as he delicately bit into the cubed morsel, a thin trail of juice dripping down his chin. Victor’s fingers were close, closer than they’d ever been before. Of all the people Yuri wanted to take advantage of the excuse to touch him, it was Victor. But it didn’t happen. The hand was removed before anything could bring them together. Yuri bit back the urge to keen and beg.

Victor tilted his head and smiled in that innocent-looking way of his. “You need to eat something to keep up your energy.” He played the role of the perfect, chaste trainer, as if it wasn’t his fault that Yuri was currently drowning in his own out of control arousal.

Now that Victor had made everyone aware of it, multiple hands moved to feed Yuri. They bumped into one another, dropped pieces, pressed Yuri’s lips against his teeth in an effort to push the food inside. They didn’t ask what he liked or what he wanted. There was no reason for them to care. All they desired was the fleeting feeling of Yuri's lips, a glimpse of his white teeth, and the chance to smear Yuri’s own saliva across his cheeks.

No matter what they fed him, Yuri could only taste pears. Victor had fed him that piece of pear. Victor’s rooms often had pears available for when they trained. Pears had always been Yuri’s favorite, something he’d been enraptured to taste that first day he’d arrived at the palace.

At some point, Yuri was playing again. The flute cut through the noise of the crowd who no longer stopped in reverent silence as Yuri performed. Instead, they murmured among themselves, discussing what they wanted of this new Jewel and how much they were willing to pay for that. Their hunger grew like an oncoming storm as Yuri’s bright notes brought back memories of Victor’s breath across his ear, whispering instructions to improve vibrato.

The sound fluttered through his cock like a trapped bird.

Sunlight faded early and the chandeliers were lit. Yuri’s dances became slower, sensual, and more straining. Half his mind was gone, lost to the intense desire coursing through him. His clothes were stained from his own dripping need. People noticed. They dabbed at the darkened spot as if it was a spill from a drink, though it was clear they knew better. Yuri twitched and bit back moans. It had been so long since anything had given his neglected dick attention. It felt like too much now, far more than he could possibly handle.

He trembled, near doubled in half, vision clouded, and lips parted against harsh breaths. Those around him had stopped asking after his condition, no longer seeing the point in acting when it was clear what was happening. They leered and crowded, the smell of their bodies hot and choking. At any moment, they would converge, press him against a table, and tear into him like ravenous wolves.

_Get away! Get away from me!_

“Yu-ri,” his name was sung like the chiming of a bell. The mass of oppressing heat parted, clearing the way for the chilled air that accompanied Victor’s smiling face. “Midnight Breeze.”

Without conscious thought, Yuri pulled himself upright. His feet lifted and moved, pushing through the molasses heavy air. Victor called, and Yuri responded. At the center of the room, it was cold and empty. He was able to take in breath and press his arousal down, down, down, to the core of him, to warp his very being. The music started. Yuri fell into position. He danced.

He _yearned._

He danced… 

**~*~**

The tiny closet of a room he stood in was blessedly quiet. There was a single long table that took up the majority of the wall. A lamp gently swayed over his head. He wasn’t sure what this room was usually used for and didn’t much care. All that mattered were the vast array of cards on the table before him.

So many bids.

None from Victor.

Yuri felt strangely numb.

Somewhere behind the blanket of devastating acceptance that had fallen over him, his arousal still burned like a bonfire. His body continued to suffer the effects, body tense and flushed, mind sluggish, but he could hardly focus on it. He wasn’t sure how long he’d frantically searched through the cards seeking Victor’s familiar penmanship, nor how long he stared at the mess he’d created, but he was vaguely aware that his feet were freezing. His silk slippers were no match against stone floors in early spring when nights were far too cold.

Numbers came in and out of focus. So many numbers. So many cards. So many bids.

_This is what you wanted!_ some distant part of Yuri shouted. He’d worked his whole life to achieve this. He was perfect. He was the most desired Jewel in history. Where was the satisfaction and joy he deserved?

The door clacked as it opened, but he didn’t move. Was Yakov going to force Yuri to choose? He’d done so before to scared Children getting cold feet after their presentation. But Yuri wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. He was just…

“You did it, Yuri.”

Victor's soft voice felt like being struck. Yuri sucked in a harsh jolt of air as he came back to awareness. Every ache and pain in his body reasserted itself: his throbbing calves, raw throat, prickling feet, and purpling cock. Yuri shivered before opening his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

What was he even supposed to say?

Long, pale fingers… “I think this is a record,” Victor said, sliding out a card emblazoned by some powerful person’s seal. His arm was so close. If Yuri swayed, they would touch. He didn’t. “Every card holds a secondary offer as well. Oh! And many for a full-time assignment.”

It was true. Not only were the bids for Yuri’s purity astronomical, but it was clear that everyone was willing to have him one way or another. One night, three weeks, years — whatever it took to own the work of art Yuri had become.

Victor’s lips were a breath away from Yuri’s ear. “Are you happy?”

He was supposed to be. This was what he’d spent his life aiming for. He should say yes, shove it in Victor’s face that everyone wanted him even if the prince didn’t. He searched for his inner pride and anger only to come up missing. He opened his mouth, but again, his throat seized around a traitorous lump.

The memory of drowning in a sea of unbridled avarice and lust was still too fresh.

_I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid._

“Oh!” Victor chirped with a rustling of his clothes. “We’re missing one.”

Set clean atop of the chaotic pile was a card ringed in ornate gilt, Victor’s flowery signature at the bottom. Yuri’s chest seized. He couldn’t breathe. His eyes went wide while his brain whited out. An offer. An offer from Prince Victor Nikiforov. Was this real? A joke? A dream? Yuri could no longer tell.

“Did you want this?” Victor’s voice was quiet and deep, tinged with something dangerous that was unrecognizable.

Yuri’s eyes skipped over the words rapidly before he could make sense of them. It was an elaborate offer. There was no price for Yuri’s purity, no counteroffer for a following night, only a proposition for full ownership. The terms were insulting, the price paid barely enough to compensate Yuri’s debt owed by the time he died. He could take no other offers, ever, nor could he be touched without Victor’s exclusive permission and attendance.

_All rights and decisions to Yuri Plisetsky’s body, inside and out, are forfeit to the owner,_ the end of the offer read. This was more than asking for a slave. It was a contract for Yuri to be turned into property — a rare jewel, completely and utterly, that only Victor could touch.

Finally, Yuri remembered to breathe.

“I take good care of my possessions, Yuri,” Victor said, his voice still in that unfamiliar and quiet tone. “I love and care for each and every object I collect. However, once they are mine, they can never be anyone else’s. They will remain safely locked away, unreachable, unobtainable. When a precious gem is added to my personal collection, it is because I desire it more than anyone else on this earth.”

There was movement, the sound of metal on metal, and then _it_ was placed on the table atop Victor’s offer. “Choose wisely, Yuri. I do not want a short-lived facet of you. I require everything you are and everything you will be.”

Yuri turned his head the slightest amount. Victor was so close. The dangling strands of their hair wrapped around each other. All Yuri could see were blue depths, and all he could feel was Victor’s even breaths. He hung on every word spoken as if it were the most important moment of his entire life. Perhaps it was. He stood now at diverging paths for his future, ones that would never meet again. He had to choose.

“Do you desire me as _they_ desired you? Or does your need for me coincide with mine for you?”

“I’m not like them,” Yuri immediately responded, his voice so breathy and quiet it could barely be heard.

Victor’s eyes flicked down to Yuri’s trembling lips. Every bone in Yuri’s body screamed for him to lean forward for a kiss. It would be burning and passionate in a way Yuri had never dreamed possible. He would drown in Victor, forget this day ever existed, and stay curled in those long, pale arms for an eternity. He wanted it. He wanted, he needed, he — 

“Choose,” Victor ordered. And just like that, he was gone. The door shut behind fluttering silver hair with a quiet, booming click.

Yuri turned back to the card in front of him. “I’m not like them,” he repeated. He reached out, and his fingers alighted on the cold metal bars of the cage. It felt like a frigid windstorm scouring away the dreams and aspirations he’d worked his whole life to obtain. It felt like he was being ripped apart and remade with ragged, raw edges. It felt comforting and familiar.

Yuri had spent a long time screaming silent words through stubborn actions. _Tell me you want me! Prove that you’ll keep me! Fight anyone that says otherwise!_ This was Victor’s way of returning those exact words. It was a challenge, a gauntlet thrown. They were unstoppable forces asking to clash against one another for all eternity.

“As if I would choose anything else,” Yuri snarled. He ripped at his clothes, growling at how his fingers were still uncoordinated and shaky from the effects of the day. Sliding the cage into place, hearing the snick of the lock, was such a bone-deep relief that his cock instantly dribbled through the hole at the top. It was all the release he’d be getting unless Victor said otherwise.

After all, his body, his pleasure — his everything — had never once stopped belonging to Victor.

Snatching up Victor’s card, Yuri turned and opened the door. One of Victor’s servants stood there holding neatly folded articles of gauzy clothing. Her eyes flicked to the prince’s seal and then back to Yuri. She bowed while extending her arms. “You are to meet his highness at the throne set up for him in the Great Hall. You may enter through the servant's door to avoid any unnecessary interactions.”

Yuri smirked. His life as Victor’s prized possession had already begun. He wasn’t surprised, though everyone else was. They gaped at the revealing clothing that hid none of his body when backlit by the flickering candelabras lining the hall. He had no reason to feel shame for his nudity. This was how Victor wanted to present his Jewel, so Yuri did so with grace and overwhelming desire only for Victor.

Kneeling at Victor’s feet, Yuri tilted his head up to watch how the prince’s careful face crumbled into a look of arctic pleasure. “I am yours, my prince,” Yuri said, his voice carrying through the stunned silence. Then, in a voice soft enough to be kept only between them, “You’re an imbecile if you ever thought I wasn’t.”

For the first time in all the years they’d known each other, Victor’s blooming smile was genuine. Soft, tender fingers slid into Yuri’s hair like a hot knife through snow. It was better than Yuri could have ever imagined. He gave himself over to desire, to confinement, to pain, and to pleasure. He gave his everything.

To Victor.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed your gift! :-)
> 
> http://thatvixenchick.tumblr.com  
> https://twitter.com/The_Vixen13 (nsfw)


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